So Cold
by UnsolvedRiddle
Summary: Merlin helplessly watches as his world crumbles into dust for the half that makes him whole is here no longer. Major angst. Arthur/Merlin. Character death.


**Title:** So Cold

**Rating:** M

**Pairing/Focus:** Arthur and Merlin

**Warning(s):** Gore, a small kiss between Arthur and Merlin, character death

**Author's Note:** Er, well, I was feeling angsty while listening to Ben Cocks _So Cold_ and I decided to write and this is the product. I've never written in the present tense and I've never written for the Merlin fandom. I also haven't really written anything for nearly 3 years so I apologize for the rustiness of this particular piece. It's unbeta-ed as well so any mistakes there are is all my doing. This isn't AU but it's not exactly canon either. Whatever.

* * *

_Oh, you can hear me cry_  
_See my dreams all die_  
_From where you're standing_  
_On your own_  
_It's so quiet here_  
_And I feel so cold_

* * *

Warm, sticky blood coats his trembling fingers and slides down his wrists in thick rivulets. His widened, disbelieving eyes sting with hot tears and his mouth is open in abject horror as he surveys the crimson fluid tainting his pale flesh. There is a painful ache within his chest cavity, burrowed deep in the place where his heart belongs. He chokes. The air he needs to breathe is cut off by a lump in the back of his throat.

"No," he croaks, voice hoarse as the single objection claws its way out from his vocal cords. "No, no, no."

His stomach turns and he feels as if he will be violently sick. His hands scramble across the broad chest, pressing down against the wound in the hopes of stemming the blood flow. However, it was in vain. The wound was too deep and ragged, cutting through sinew and muscle alike. The added pressure only makes more precious life spurt out into his awaiting palms. He swallowed a desperate sob. A few stray tears slipped from his eyes but he ignored the cool tracks being carved into his cheeks. His manly pride didn't matter. Only Arthur did. And right now, Arthur was...No, this can't be happening. Arthur can't -

"No, I won't allow it. You're going to be fine," Merlin says, desperately clutching at the nearly lifeless body of his beloved King. The sky blue eyes are glossy and the golden skin earned from hours outside under the sun is fading to this awful ashen white. Chapped lips open to speak but Merlin shushes him with tears steadily falling down his cheek. It takes too much energy to talk and Arthur needs all the energy he can get. "You'll see, you'll be okay. We'll get you healed and by tomorrow morning you'll be throwing something at my head and calling me an idiot. Just - Just wait and see, alright?"

He doesn't know who he is trying to convince more but he has a pretty good idea that it is himself. Arthur has this devastating look on his face - he looks at Merlin with glazed, unseeing eyes and lips pressed into a grim line like he knows this moment, right here cradled in Merlin's arms, will be his last moments alive. And it completely wrecks Merlin, shattering him into tiny little pieces that will never be whole ever again.

A wail of utter despair is torn from the sorcer's mouth and he flings himself onto Arthur, wrapping his arms around glittering strands of gold and burrows his face into the other's shoulder. His King's blood is soaking through his shirt. It causes the fabric to glue itself to his thin chest His hands are bony talons as they grip Arthur close to his shaking form. He never wants to let go.

"Please, you can't go," he begs. He feels Arthur's body twitch and his throat convulse as he tries to respond. The knife digs deeper into Merlin's heart. He pulls back his head and gives Arthur a watery smile. "Sh, don't talk. Y-You need your strength."

"_Mer..._lin," Arthur says, barely above a whisper. He swallows repeatedly, grunts of pain escaping as he tries his best to sit up. He gets a few inches off the ground before his arms give out and he tumbles back to the hard, unforgiving soil. He gives a strangled cry and winces and the gash in his chest tears causing more blood to splatter out of his body to paint the grass pitchfork red.

Arthur tries to rise once more, only to be stopped by a gentle hand on his uninjured shoulder. It is painful for Merlin to watch as Arthur's cloudy eyes try to focus and find his own. His bottom lip trembles and he feels utterly broken.

"No more. Arthur, please, stop. You're...You're going to hurt yourself."

Arthur complies though he still searches for Merlin's face blindly.

"C-Can't see you," the King says. "Want to see you..."

Merlin nearly bites a hole in his lip to hold in his sobs and leans over Arthur. "I'm right here," he hiccups, tears sliding down his cheeks. They drip off his chin and land on Arthur's face. "I'm not going anywhere."

Arthur attempts to smile though it's more of a grimace as he stares up at Merlin's face with unseeing eyes. He is beginning to feel warm and he can feel as everything begins to shut down. It hurts to breathe in and out but he needs these last few moments with Merlin. He needs to say goodbye.

"Don't...cry. Please."

Merlin chuckles mirthlessly, closing his eyes and swallowing around the lump. There is nothing he can do and a feeling of hopelessness washes over him. He is forced to watch as his dreams and world crumble to dust around him. He knows what's happening and yet he refuses to believe it.

"Can't help it, you prat." he says.

"Idiot," Arthur responds in kind with affection, letting out a pained sounding chuckle that cuts off suddenly as he gasps. "I...I feel - Merlin, I'm warm..."

"No, don't say that," Merlin cries, shaking his head in denial. "Y-You can't say things like that, Arthur..."

The blond swallows and a small smile quirks his lips upward. He isn't in pain anymore or rather, his nervous system has shut down and he can no longer feel it. He is numb. His arm feels like lead as he raises it, trembling as he reaches for Merlin.

Sniffling, Merlin takes a hold of Arthur's wrist and guides the scarred and bloody palm to his wet cheek.

"Merlin." Arthur says, a serene look taking over his face as he sees with his hand, fingers brushing over Merlin's impossibly pronounced cheekbone. The brunette's skin is clammy. Smudges of his blood are left in the wake of their path, a macabre version of war paint. "Merlin...I..."

"Arthur, please..."

"Merlin...thank you. For everything."

"No, don't say goodbye. You can't! Stay with me, please..." Merlin broke down, nuzzling into the rapidly chilling hand against his face. "Y-You're...Without you, I'm **nothing**..."

Arthur's breath is beginning to falter and his eyelids are fluttering. His hand never leaves Merlin's face, stroking gently as he takes his last few breathes of life. And when the once and future king finally passes on to Avalon it is with a smile on his face and a palm cradling his dearest friend's cheek.

Merlin is left behind, bathed in royal blood, a broken man that can do nothing but scream to the heavens and curse the world. He tries all of the healing spells he knows but in the end, nothing is able to bring Arthur back. No amount of magic can stitch up their wounds and make Merlin whole again. That knowledge cripples him and he slumps forward, forehead pressed to that of his King's.

He finally has to admit that Arthur is gone from this world. He will never see the King's laughing face and smiling eyes. He will never see those golden locks glinting in the sunshine. He will never see that crooked smile again. Something in him breaks with that knowledge and he feels so _cold_.

New tears spring forth from his eyes, mingling with the blood coating his face. With trembling lips, Merlin's eyes slide shut and he presses a soft kiss to the cold, unmoving ones beneath him. This is their goodbye. The lump in his throat grows and he feels like he can't breathe. A sound much like that of a wounded animal escapes his lips.

A new wave of despair wracks his body and all he can do is lay against Arthur's prone form and cry into the gore covered chest, a white knuckled grip on the royal finery of his shirt. He babbles jumbled words of _forever_ and _destiny_ and _love_ and _alone_.

And that is how the knights of Camelot find him, strewn over Arthur's dead body and covered in blood of the deepest red. When they try to pry him off, he shrieks and thrashes like a banshee and clings to their King. He spits angry threats, eyes glowing golden and magic crackling like thunder. He says Arthur isn't dead, that he is only sleeping. Merlin can fix him if he just finds the right spell, he knows he can. They just have to give him time to think, time to look.

They watch their friend with heavy hearts and lead in their bellies as he tries over and over again to heal their departed Lord. In the end, they have to knock the hysterical sorcerer out and drag him from the corpse of their sovereign. They wrap his body up tenderly and place him upon a cart so that he can be transported back to Camelot for a proper funeral befitting their King. When they are finished, Merlin is still out cold and they strap him to a horse before beginning the solemn trek back to their home, faces grim and eyes downcast.

Merlin comes to when they arrive in the city though he is different, forever changed. He is no longer who they used to know. His eyes are bleak and dead. There is no light left in him. Everything that he was died when Arthur did. He was nothing but an empty husk left to wander the Earth, forever mourning the loss of Arthur that sits heavy on his chest like a weight and gnaws at his heart with blackened fangs.

For that was all he would ever be able to do for the half that makes him whole was no more.


End file.
